The Wonderful World of Lingerie
by ScintillatingTart
Summary: "You are not buying me panties!" Penelope gasped, turning beet red.  "Come to think of it, you're not buying me any lingerie –"  Morgan/Garcia


I don't own a thing related to Criminal Minds. If anyone tried to sue me, it would be laughable. My salary isn't that big.

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><p>The Wonderful World of Lingerie<br>by ScintillatingTart

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><p>"Remind me why you're dragging me into this store?" Derek said as Penelope pulled him into the back corner of one of her favorite shops.<p>

"They're having a bra sale!" Penelope yelped excitedly.

"And you're dragging me… why?"

"I'm not dragging you – you came along willingly," she protested with a pout. "I just happened not to let go of your hand till we got to the lingerie racks."

"Can't I wait outside?" he asked, frowning.

"No, because you'd wander off and I'd find you talking to some girl that you want to take home with you tonight," she muttered, thumbing through the first of many rack arms of bras.

Derek sighed and passively aggressively grabbed an obnoxious neon pink sheer lace bra with next to no support and held it up. "How about this?" he muttered. "Good, let's go."

Penelope rolled her eyes. "Some days, you're such a MAN," she grumbled. "For one thing, it's too small. For another, what on earth would I wear it with?"

He leered at her. "Who says you're supposed to wear it with anything, gorgeous?"

She cocked her head and scowled at him. "Be serious, Derek."

A saleslady wandered over and smiled at him. "Looking for anything in particular?" she inquired.

"Actually," Penelope said irritably, "he's with me. And I'm looking for the plainest, simplest t-shirt bras you have – white, black, nude, maybe baby pink or blue – in a 38DD."

The saleswoman gestured at the rack Penelope was standing at, then turned her attention back to Derek. Penelope was fuming and decided now was as good of a time as any to be just a little bit jealous – after all, they were shopping TOGETHER.

She took the few steps toward Derek and grabbed his arm. "Now that you know my ever-elusive bra size, Sugar Shack, maybe you ought to get over here and help," she said, shooting the saleswoman a glare full of daggers. Best friends were off-limits. If he needed a wingman, he could go get Reid or Rossi.

"What exactly am I helping with?" Derek inquired.

"38 DD," she said firmly. "Find one. Somewhere. Anywhere. Just something plain – black, nude, white –"

"Baby Girl, are you telling me you wear boring underwear?" he asked, jaw dropping in disbelief.

"Oh for the love of – Derek, would you please just help me find bras?" Penelope ground out through clenched teeth. "Stop being precious and help me so we can go."

"You wear boring underwear?" he repeated.

She facepalmed so hard she thought she might knock herself out – or break her glasses. "Yes. I wear plain bras."

"Not like this?" he asked, holding up a blue and white striped bra with lace all over it. "It's your size…"

"Again, Hot Stuff – what would I wear that with?" she asked, sighing. "You don't understand, do you?"

"Maybe if you enlightened me…"

She pulled him closer and lowered her voice. "I have an odd size to find. Good bras are expensive in my size. I can't afford to be anything but practical, Derek. Black, white, nude – they go with everything. T-shirt bras are smooth cupped with just a little bit of padding so there's no obvious nippling. And that's why I don't buy all the pretty bras – because I can't."

"I'll buy it for you," he volunteered.

"No!" she said forcefully. "I can buy my own clothes."

"Princess, you just said –"

"Derek."

"I can't believe my Baby Girl would wear something so boring under all those crazy dresses."

She scowled at him. "For your information, I have about sixty pairs of fun panties, Derek Morgan –"

He grinned at her. "That's more like it –"

"But panties don't cost $50 a pair, now, do they?" she challenged, holding up a plain white bra.

"Mama, that's the ugliest thing I've seen in a while."

"It doesn't have to be pretty to hold the girls up," she reminded him, the frown still deepening on her face. The truth was that she hated the plain bras, but being practical with her underwear was something she could do to cut costs and be able to afford her snazzy shoes. After all, it wasn't like anyone cared, anyway. Kevin Lynch didn't care when he was around, and now that he was gone, she didn't give two shits if anyone else saw her partially unclothed or not. Or what they thought of her lingerie.

Unfortunately, she spied the most beautiful confection of frothy ribbons, lace, and polka dots on a mannequin, and it was all she could do not to drool with want. She didn't feel very sexy anymore – and that would definitely help her out… but she looked away before she talked herself into coveting it even more. They probably didn't have her size anyway.

With renewed vigor, she pawed through the bras till she had a handful of her basic t-shirt bras. "I need to try them on," she said, ignoring her best friend's wolfish grin. "And, no, I'm a big girl and can do it myself – I don't need you ogling the goods."

"Do me a favor?" Derek said.

She sighed sufferingly and gave him a withering look. "What?"

"Try these on, too." He pressed four more bras into her hands – bright, cheerful colors, lots of lace… Oh dear god, he got one of the polka dotted ones. Her heart literally skipped a beat.

"Derek, I –"

"Penelope, don't sass me," he said with a smirk, gently bopping her nose with his pointer finger. "Just go try them on."

She went to the dressing room and duly tried on her bras – the ones she picked were perfect, as usual, but the ones Derek had picked, despite being the "correct" size, were pinching and too tight in the cups. She looked like she was busting out all over. Not that she wasn't already.

When she came out of the dressing room, her face was bright red and she made a beeline toward the wall. She picked up the bigger cup size and all but ran back to the fitting room. Much better, she decided. So much better that she couldn't stop looking. She was falling in love with a bra: how sick was that?

Could she justify the expense for something she may or may not wear more than once or twice? She bit her lip and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Could her ego take the blow of having to go up to a DDD to get the right fit?

It took exactly ten seconds for her to decide that she couldn't justify it.

When she emerged from the dressing room again, Derek was waiting for her. "And the verdict is?" he asked with a grin.

"The spiffy ones don't fit right," she said with a shrug. "But thank you for trying." She hung up the bras she wasn't going to buy and went to the counter. $150 later, she had four bras and a headache. Penelope just didn't like lying to Derek and it showed whenever she told a little white lie – like now.

As she stepped away from the counter, he breezed up with all of the bras she'd just put away, plus three or four more, and a bustier! She gaped at him as he put them down on the counter. He grinned back at her and winked saucily before asking, "What size panties, Baby Girl?"

"You are not buying me panties!" Penelope gasped, turning beet red. "Come to think of it, you're not buying me any lingerie –"

"Too late," Derek replied, "so if you don't want a handful of granny panties, you'd better pick out a couple pairs you like."

"Derek, it's too much –"

"Penelope, don't try me," he warned, giving her a Look that meant Business.

She closed her mouth and stomped over to the panty table, picking two of the plainest pairs of brightly-colored hipsters, wadded them up into a ball, and threw them at him. "Fine," she snapped, "but I'll be bringing it all back tomorrow."

The cashier stifled a giggle. "Your total is $345.67," she said, smirking at Derek.

He swiped his credit card and said, "If you bring anything back, Angel, I'll turn you over my knee and spank you till your ass is as pink as those panties."

"You know, that mouth of yours writes a lot of checks it can't cash," Penelope accused, still furious that he thought he could just swoop in and buy her affections – as if he needed to.

"I'd let you spank me," the cashier said with a giggle.

"Sorry," Derek replied, "but I'm taken."

"Ha!" Penelope replied, poking him in the chest with one finger. "You're a player, Derek. You don't know the meaning of the word taken."

He stared at her for a long second, then he said, "I'm sorry, Penelope, that you're finding out this way, but –"

His words were like a slap. She turned on her heel and stomped away, muttering about Tamara Barnes, stupid skinny bitches with very little brains, and feeling even more like she'd been duped again. "No, I'm done," she snapped when he jogged after her with the bag. "Take it back, Derek – I don't want it and I don't want to compete for your affections with someone who is going to hate how close we are – were."

"Woman, pump your damn brakes!"

"NO – I broke up with Kevin Lynch because he was jealous of my relationship with you, and now I'm finding out that you have a girlfriend?" Penelope snapped. "I can't do this again, Derek. I'm tired of being the fucking friendzone! No one takes me seriously anyway."

"Slow your roll, Goddess," Derek said, dropping the bag and grabbing her flailing hands. "Stop talking. Take a deep breath. And listen to me." He took a deep breath. "Your face is bright red, Baby Girl –"

"I'm upset," she muttered.

"I said stop talking," he scolded, releasing her hands so he could straighten her glasses. "Better," Derek murmured. "Now, listen up good – I don't have a girlfriend. I don't have a fuckbuddy. I haven't had a date – or sex – in six months."

"You really expect me to believe that?" she scoffed.

"Mama, zip it and listen to what I'm saying," Derek insisted. "I'm taken. There's only one Baby Girl in my life, and no one else could ever hold a candle to you, Penelope."

"There's that mouth writing checks it can't cash again," she said quietly. "Can we go home, please?"

"Penelope Garcia, you aren't listening to me."

"I am," she murmured. "And I want to go home."

He sighed in exasperation. "I'm telling you that I love you and you just want to go home."

"Derek, you tell me you love me every day," she said with a frown. She didn't dare hope that he was being serious; she'd loved him for so long that the fantasy had died. Every time she thought he was being serious, he did something stupid like almost getting himself blown up, or dating Tamara Barnes, or –

"Nevermind," Derek muttered. "We'll go home," he said.

Half an hour later, he was dropping her off at her apartment and she was beginning to wonder if she'd been too hasty in sidelining him. "Derek, I –"

"I don't want to fight with you, Penelope."

She closed her mouth and opened the SUV door. He handed her both shopping bags without another word. Funnily enough, this was the longest time they'd ever been in each others' presence and not spoken – even on movie night, they had running commentary with the flicks. It didn't feel right.

"Derek."

"I said I don't want to fight with you."

"I was only going to say that I love you, too," she said, retreating from the car as fast as her legs could carry her. She didn't give him a snowball's chance in hell of catching up with her. And as soon as she was inside her apartment, she locked the door and stood there, hopelessly lost. She'd just run away from the only person she cared enough about to want to give up everything for forever. And over what? Lingerie. Of all the stupid fucking dumbass shit, that's what they'd been fighting about.

She dropped the shopping bags and went into her bedroom, flopping onto the bed with a frustrated growl. It was simple, wasn't it? He loved her, she loved him – wasn't it enough? Why wasn't it enough? Was it too much?

It was almost dark when she got up and changed clothes. He'd all but laid his heart bare and she'd thrown it back in his face: well, no more. She touched up her makeup and headed for the door, texting him a quick, "I'm sorry. Be there in 10."

He was waiting for her at his front door. "Penelope –"

"No, let me," Penelope whispered, putting her fingers against his lips to silence him. "I'm an idiot – a crazy, shallow idiot who thought she didn't stand a chance with you, so I friendzoned myself. I'm not that pretty or thin or that smart, but I know I've got a good thing with you for as long as it lasts." She blinked back tears. "You're the only person in the world I'd willingly change myself for, if it meant I'd be able to keep you forever. I'll wear fancy bras and eat salad instead of pasta and – and – I'll give up chocolate, Derek. That's how much you mean to me." She took a deep breath and whispered, "I love you, Derek Morgan."

"You're not 'that pretty'," he said softly, "because you're so fucking beautiful, Penelope. Don't ever sell yourself short, Baby Girl. You're brilliant and so sexy –"

She smiled and murmured, "Hold that thought, Handsome – let's go inside." Once the door was closed, she was taking her jacket off. His eyes almost bugged out of his head when she revealed the bustier he'd picked out for her earlier – all hot pink leopard print, lace, and sexy, sexy ribbons. "I may not be the next Victoria's Secret model, but I thought you deserved a private showing," she murmured, a blush creeping onto her cheeks.

Maybe she presumed too much.

But the moment he kissed her, all of her presumptions faded away. He could buy her all the lingerie in the world if he wanted to – she just wanted him, and she wanted them to be happy. He was definitely taken, in all the best possible ways; so was she.

Those stupid hipsters were going back to the shop in the morning, though.

Fin


End file.
